


Cold Comfort

by Hideous_Sun_Demon



Category: Designated Survivor (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Power, Angst, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hatesex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 07:16:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13071849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hideous_Sun_Demon/pseuds/Hideous_Sun_Demon
Summary: Tom doesn’t know how they ended up like this.





	Cold Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> This has been knocking about in my brain for a while, so I finally decided to post it.

Tom doesn’t know how they ended up like this.

He’s kissing Kendra, her hands pushing him flat against the bed, and none of it feels real. It’s far from intimate- there’s no love here, just a tangled mess of anger and guilt and grief that stretches between them. It’s a pale imitation of what he’d had with Alex but, Tom thinks bitterly, isn’t that the point? Everything feels washed out and grey without her. This is all he has now.

It’s funny, Tom thinks sometimes. A part of him can’t help but hate Kendra, the way that her presence makes Alex’s absence seem all the more louder. And yet, he still feels drawn to her. The bond of shared trauma, he supposes; he’s lost the love of his life, Kendra witnessed the death of a friend before her very eyes. Strange how what had pulled them apart is now bringing them together.

**—**

They’d both stumbled upon it, the first time it happened. He and Kendra had been locked in a careful balance of fragile professionalism, both wary of doing anything to break the dam that had been built up. Tom understood rationally that Kendra hadn’t had anything to do with Alex’s death, but the sight of her was a stark reminder of his wife’s last moments, and he would feel rage coil up like a viper inside of him, ready to strike at any moment. Kendra didn’t show it, but Tom knew she was angry too, at the way he barely acknowledged her. They kept this charade up for months, until Kendra finally confronted him one night in his office.

“We need to talk, sir,” Kendra had said, standing tall over his desk. Tom barely glanced up, clamping down on the now familiar anger rising up at the sound of her voice.

“No, I don’t think we do,” he bit out. “Goodnight, Kendra.”

“Bullshit.”

Kendra kept her head held high even as Tom stood to face her, months of bottled up anger emanating from him. He could feel himself slipping- this was why he hadn’t wanted to face her. He hadn’t before seen his fury reflected in her eyes, though, and that drew his attention. “Kendra,” he warned, but she continued, voice never wavering.

“You need to drop this pretence. I’ve seen that way you look at me. Stop lying to my face, pretending that nothing has changed-“

“She’s all I see when I look at you!” Tom screamed out, his anger reaching a boiling point. “Is that what you want to hear, Kendra? That I wish you had died instead of her?” He’d stepped around from behind his desk, but Kendra stood her ground.

“You think I don’t know that?” Kendra shot back, eyes alight.

Tom’s voice dropped to a low growl. “Oh, I think it’s more than that. I think you wish the same thing.” They were now nose to nose. “I know how much you hate yourself,” he murmured.

Kendra’s lips curled into a joyless smile. “I guess that makes two of us, then.”

They both moved at the same time, pressing their lips together in an explosion of heat and rage. Tom wasn’t gentle, and Kendra took it as a challenge, pushing back just as hard. Tom hadn’t known how badly he’d wanted this rush, but now he felt a need for it growing inside him. With each other, they could let their fury, at themselves, at each other, take form. This is what they needed.

They broke apart, the sudden flare of passion dying down and replaced with guilt in Tom’s chest. This was crossing the line, they both knew it. Tom had never thought he could do something like this, but really, he didn’t know who he was anymore.

“Kendra,” he warned, “if you don’t want this...”

The defiant jut of her chin was all the answer he needed. Tom was tired of feeling guilty. He was tired of all of it, and he knew Kendra was too. “Alright,” he said, voice low, and they reached for each other again.

**—**

Now they’ve fallen into an uneasy pattern. Kendra comes to the residency a few times a month, when he knows nobody will disturb them- Leo’s away at college, and Penny sleeps soundly- and then they fuck. Always in one of the guest rooms, never in their bed. Tom can barely stand to be in there by himself most nights- almost 6 months and it still feels too cold, too empty by himself- and he knows he could never sully the memories of that room with this. Kendra is on top of him, nails pressing so tightly into his shoulders that there’ll be marks left tomorrow, but Tom doesn’t mind, welcomes the dull pain. He wonders what Kendra gets out of this, if this is her way of reminding him that she’s here, that he can’t freeze her out forever. Or perhaps it’s some twisted form of penance, every touch an apology. Tom tries to convince himself that this sex is just a release, just a way for someone to touch him, but he knows it’s more than that. A part of him sees Kendra, the last person to see Alex alive, as a final strand connecting him to his wife. In some sick way, he’s trying to find some last vestige of Alex in her skin.

In the beginning, Tom had thought that perhaps if he allowed himself to forget that it was Kendra he was with, he’d be able to imagine it was Alex instead, feel as though she was still there with him. But even with his eyes closed Tom knows every inch of Alex’s body, having studied it, skin to skin, like a roadmap. No one would ever be able to take her place.

Tom bucks his hips one last time, and comes with a shuddering gasp, Kendra crying out from above. Then silence, as she rolls off of him and they lie side by side in the darkness, revulsion rising up in Tom’s stomach as it always does after these nights. Dead exhaustion seeps through his bones and Tom lets his head flop to the side, gazes at Kendra stretched out beside him. She’s panting slightly, eyes closed, expression unreadable through the cover of the dark.

 _It should have been you_ , Tom thinks, and he hates himself.

Unable to stand being in the room with her any longer, Tom heaves himself up, pulling on his robe as he makes his way to the bathroom. Kendra doesn’t follow him, doesn’t offer soothing words or gentle touches like Alex would have. Tom is grateful- he doesn’t think he would be able to bear it.

Under the cold glare of the bathroom light, Tom looks almost ghostly, and he barely recognises his reflection. Alex would be horrified by what he’s doing, he thinks bitterly. The man he used to be would be disgusted as well. But he isn’t that man anymore. The old Tom Kirkman had died along with Alex in that car crash. His hands fumble with the shower taps, and he steps under the stream of water, feeling as though he’s melting away under the heat. He rakes a washcloth across his skin, rubbing until he’s red and raw, trying to scrub the whole sordid mess off. He still feels dirty. Tom feels his eyes slide close under the spray, tries to conjure up the ghost of her, wants to hear her voice.

The voicemail echoes in his memory. _All I want to say to you is I love you._

Tom’s knees almost buckle under the weight of his betrayal. Never again, he thinks- the same thing he thought the last time, and the last, and the last- never again.

When he finally makes his way back to the bedroom Kendra is gone, like she always is. They don’t pretend that this is anything more than what it is- them using each other. Tom doesn’t think he can manage going back to his bedroom, so he stays there, collapsed on the sweat-damp sheets. It’s on these nights, after being with Kendra, that Tom feels more alone than ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry Alex


End file.
